


Dog Days Have Just Begun

by AlmondBlossomsTC



Category: Zombies Run!
Genre: F/M, I’m giving 7 a different name so he isn’t named after his VA... icky, don’t spoil ZR for me, this’ll probably have sex one day
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-10
Updated: 2020-08-12
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:00:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,336
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25831702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlmondBlossomsTC/pseuds/AlmondBlossomsTC
Summary: AU starting at S2M35 - what if Five DID go with Seven to the Caribbean? (I haven’t finished season 2 yet do NOT @ me)This is just a love letter to 7’s deep voice tbh. If you know me irl no you don’t <3
Relationships: Evan Deaubl/Runner Five, runner five/runner seven
Kudos: 9





	1. Leaving On A Jetplane

**Author's Note:**

> Five isn’t gendered yet but will be eventually! First chapter has no rules no gender no gods no masters

Staring up at Runner Seven, extending the invitation from the plane, felt like a crossroads. In that moment, you could see one of the paths playing out. Returning to Abel with Runner Eight, eating lunch with Jack and Eugene, silently sitting with Sam as he guided a mission and made silly faces at you. Running from hordes, being shot at, facing Van Arck. You had no idea what the other path held. But you were tired. 

Sara’s confident expression dropped as you surged forward. You could see her open her mouth to shout - remembering your chase of Tess, the traitor from before - before you were onboard. Runner Seven looked as surprised as Eight looked betrayed. Then his face cracked into a half-smile. 

“Good choice, Five. We’ll be on our way.”

Runner Eight was just starting to yell up at you when the gangplank swung up and the plane’s engines kicked in. 

-

As soon as you sat in the co-pilot’s seat, you were struck with incredible guilt. You’d watched as Sara’s shrinking form got to running before jetting away. Seven was silent next to you, focussed on the controls as the plane ascended. Bonnie lay obediently in your lap, looking around with interest. 

You didn’t know what Abel would do without you. Self-centred as that may seem, the township had lost a fair few runners after the events of... everything. You wondered if they would find yet another Runner 5, or retire your title. It was likely that you were overestimating your own importance to them, but hey, it was starting to seem like you’d abandoned both your post and your family, right?

Seven finally cleared his throat, a little awkwardly, as the plane reached its cruising altitude. It was much lower than you remembered from taking flights pre-apocalypse - closer to where you’d hovered in the helicopter, all those weeks ago. The plane was fairly loud and wasn’t pressurized, like a jetliner would be. You wondered how long the trip would be. 

Catching a side eye from Runner Seven, he cleared his throat again, somehow more firmly this time. He’d caught that you were still ruminating. “It’s going to be a long flight,” he half-shouted over the noise of the engines. “Close to a full 24. We likely don’t have the fuel to land and resupply before hitting the Atlantic, I’m afraid.”

  
_Thanks for the heads-up, Seven. Sounds like a fantastic time, rattling through the sky over open ocean for a full day and night._

He continued. “I may have you take the reins for a time - not now, no, not yet. Only in case of emergency.”

_ Or if you fall asleep at the wheel, right? Sending us spiralling into the sea, with miles of nothingness around us, no hope of any surviving search-and-rescue, no guarantee that any passing ships aren’t full of the infected... _

This time, he sounded a bit sheepish. “There was no way to quickly brief you on the drawbacks. I apologize. But Eight did look as if she’d start taking potshots if we lingered longer. It will be a long flight, and not an easy or comfortable one. But I promise you - it shall be well worth it.”

Your gut was... partly churning. But as soon as you’d strapped in, you could feel something else, as well. The familiar butterflies of a new adventure. Apprehension turning to excitement, a curious anticipation. 

Instead of answering, you shot Runner 7 a smile and a thumbs up. His face showed just a shade of surprise before firming again into stern-pilot-mode. 

You could tell when he turned back to the controls that he was pleased, though. Voice still raised over the noise, he told you, “If you would like to rest up, there should be noise-cancelling headphones somewhere. Should you sleep in the chair, you’ll be close enough for me to rouse you. There’s also a small bench-seat in the back that you can strap into, but that does leave us with the threat of me being unable to wake you quickly if there’s a... situation, up here. It’s up to you.”

The headphones were hanging on a peg beside your seat. As they went over your ears, the noise was cut to a dull buzz; it was almost soothing, like white noise. Runner Seven nodded at you, patting your thigh, before turning his eyes back through the windshield. Stroking Bonnie, you tilted to the side, and, after ensuring that you weren’t leaning on anything important, closed your eyes. The plane shook, the warm weight in your lap snuggled in, and you trusted the man at your side. You were asleep in minutes. 

—

It was unclear how long it had been when you woke. You yawned as the world reformed and noticed the uptick in the plane’s shaking around you. Only minor turbulence, but you still jittered through the air. Runner Seven hadn’t noticed you waking, still focussed straight ahead, but Bonnie roused as well and nosed at your hand. 

When you took off the headphones, you could finally hear more than the quiet machinery whir. Seven was half-mumbling, half-humming to himself. It was a song you didn’t recognize. You didn’t want to startle him, so you sat and waited for him to notice on his own that you’d woken. It was dark outside the windshield - you had no clue what time it was or where you could be. 

“It’s b-“

You jumped and snapped around to look at Runner Seven, who raised a placating hand. Turns out it wasn’t scaring _him_ that you needed to worry about. 

“Sorry. I was only saying - it’s been a while since you had a full 8, hm? We’re more than halfway there and you’ve been dead to the world the entire way.”

He wasn’t wrong. You stretched, jostling Bonnie and making her chuff at you, then squirmed uncomfortably. Seven caught it, grimacing and admitting, “There’s no WC on this thing, I’m afraid.”

You’d made do with worse. There was some negotiation over logistics and an empty water bottle, some polite averting of eyes, and you found yourself sitting in the pilot’s chair while Seven fixed Bonnie up a bowl of kibble and a few newspapers in the back. He looked terrible. Getting up at first, he’d stumbled, muttering something about his legs being asleep. If you’d been sleeping for so long, he must be coming up on a full 24 without a rest. 

After a minute with Bonnie, he was back up in the cockpit, tearing at some jerky. “You can get up again, Five. I’ll take it.”

Shaking your head, you nodded for him to sit in the other chair. He narrowed his eyes for a moment, then caved and sat, buckling in. 

“Stubborn,” he scolded, but smiling as he did. “Thank you. We’ve likely got... six or seven hours to go. Wake me when you see the sun, alright? Once we hit the islands, I’ll have to navigate us down, but until then just keep our heading...” He pointed to a small gauge on the dashboard. “...within a few points of that, if you will. If there’s _any_ trouble-“

You reached up to where he was pointing and squeezed his hand. To your surprise (and amusement) he jumped, hand twitching before he tugged it away. His expression was different after that, brow furrowed. For a moment, you considered apologizing - maybe you’d overstepped - but then he opened his mouth and said, “You know, this sounds ridiculous now, but I never _did_ learn your name. I can’t well keep calling you Runner Five if we’re going to be... living together? I did assume you’d stay.”

_ Plenty of time to divide up your estate when we get there, Seven. Go to bed, damn you. _

After another moment of studying you, his face cleared and he shook his head, small smile curling at his lips. “We’ll discuss semantics later. Thank you, Five. If anything starts beeping, please wake me.” He donned the noise cancelling headphones himself and curled up as best he could in the co-pilot’s seat, arms crossed and chin on his chest. You just rolled your eyes and looked out the dark windshield at the nothingness beyond. It would be hours before the first rays of dawn made their way into the cabin. 


	2. Oh, Heaven with You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A leetle update - still no naughtiness, just worldbuilding

You had to hand it to Seven, the man could keep a cool head. The plane had started to sputter about half a klick out from the island and all he had said was “Hold onto Bonnie, would you? And strap in.” Taking the controls, he’d steered you both down as best as he was able. It wasn’t a _completely_ smooth landing, but you’d take it over a crash. 

Once down, you both unbuckled and sat there for a moment. You, taking in the view, and him, closing his eyes. After a minute, he laughed. Turning to you, you saw that he was smiling, more genuine and less sardonic than you’d seen on him before. “We’ve made it. At last - safety.” He raked a hand up through his hair and sighed with a deep, profound relief. 

The moment ended and he got out of the captain’s seat, all business again. “Come now, Five. I need a drink. The plumbing may or may not be working perfectly, but there’s an underground well that’ll be full of fresh, clean water. At worst, we can pump it up and each have a shower.” _God, that sounds good._

You followed him out of the plane, humid air hitting you as soon as the gangplank dropped. It was beautifully hot. The plane ride in the unpressurized cabin had left your teeth chattering for parts of it, but you had a habit of layering up for runs - teeth can’t penetrate cloth as well as they can flesh - and had been well prepared. Now, you found yourself shedding your jacket, then sweater, then shirt. All of the runners had seen one another in their skivvies and you’d probably be swimming in a sports bra anyway. 

Oh, SWIMMING. It had been ages. Hopefully Seven either had a stash of razors or was very progressive. 

Bonnie scampered off to investigate and Seven let her go. He had a bit more dignity, keeping his clothes on as he strode across the one-lane runway towards the- well, the mansion. He hadn’t been kidding about the ‘private island’ thing. The place was GORGEOUS. White walls, enormous windows, solar panels - solar panels! It would have _reliably power_ , a near-luxury these days. 

Your gawking gave Seven time to make it to a stairway leading up the side of the mansion to what you assumed was the front door. “Let me give you a quick tour before I secure the plane. No sense leaving you to roast while I park the damn thing properly in the garage.” He had a _garage_ for _planes_. 

But he did have a point. It was going on noon, judging by the height of the sun, and heat was radiating up off the runway and down from the clear sky. You nearly tripped over Bonnie coming up the stairs to Seven. He cracked a smile at you, then entered a code into an electronic lock. The door swung open and you both stepped inside. 

-

The massive house was rather spartanly decorated, but damn impressive. Six bedrooms (all a bit dusty), eight bathrooms, a big kitchen (with a FRIDGE), an indoor pool, a luxurious sitting room with a full bar and a view of the ocean. There was a room you would call a home theatre that Seven simply described as ‘where I watch telly’, a decently sized library that he dismissed as ‘the office’, and an armoury that blew his underground stash out of the water. 

And no zombies. No nothing. Just tropical birds and palm trees. “There are fruit trees around, in the surrounding forest,” Seven tossed out nonchalantly. You almost moaned. Fresh produce had been a bit pathetic in Abel. Yes, the pantry was all standard nonperishables - and rather a lot of scotch - but you’d kill a full horde for a ripe mango. 

He noticed you licking your lips and chuckled. “Yes, I think this is rather an upgrade from what we’ve had to get used to.” Gesturing around them at the impressive living situation they would now be sharing, he concluded, “Please, make yourself at home. The room with the black door is mine - feel free to choose any of the others. I recommend the top floor. It’s a bit of a climb, but laying under the skylight is lovely in the tropical storms that we get here sometimes.”

At this point, you’d take the plush carpet in the sitting room. Maybe you’d claim both the top floor room and one on the main floor. 

Seven left to organize the plane and you got practical. There were pretty towels in the en-suite of the guest room that you felt VERY guilty about sullying. Not wanting to risk a shower before Seven checked over the plumbing, you washed yourself as best you could with a bottle of water you’d found in the fridge and one of those lovely fluffy towels. 

The room you’d chosen had a balcony that overlooked what seemed to be the infinity pool that Seven had mentioned before. It was, of course, quite a mess after several months of no maintenance. Maybe you’d drain and clean it as a partial repayment for flying you away. There was really not much you could ever do for him on that front. 

Bonnie bumped open the door to the room curiously and then raced for the bed. Before you could stop her, she’d curled up at the foot, grimy and swaddled in the duvet. Oh well. You could wash that too. 

But she had the right idea. Stripping down to nothing, you slipped under the covers and groaned. The sheets were _satin._ You took a moment just to rub against them before settling. Holding one of the dozen-odd pillows close, you slipped off to sleep. 


End file.
